30 days and nights
by SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: The 30 day OTP challenge. Rating varies chapter to chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**(The 30 day OTP challenge is calling to me. Days 1 & 2!)**

* * *

Removing your armour, your solid defences to the outside world, was not something that was usually done. It was usually only done in medical emergencies, the soft protoform underneath quickly protected by a mock up of materials.

Over time, an exposed protoform had come to be associated the same way one would view an exposed human body - inappropriate. Even in private, it was almost an unthinkable thing to do.

And yet, there Jazz sat, not a single shred of armour to speak of cladding and protecting his body.

The soft glow of his spark could be seen, and Jazz tried to not look at it. He'd be reminded of just how _exposed_ he was, and his hand would twitch towards where his armour lay.

"If you're uncomfortable, it's okay to cover up again." The mech sitting opposite him said softly, optics half shuttering. Their doorwings twitched, betraying the agitation they also felt at being exposed like this. The vorn they had been at war for took their toll on everyone, and even during quiet periods no one completely relaxed.

"Ya're not lookin' too hot ya self, Prowler."

Prowl averted his optics. "I am not accustomed to being exposed like this."

"Figures." Jazz replied, shuffling to be a little closer. He held a hand out, hovering it over Prowls hand. Both were clasped to his knees. Jazz looked up at Prowl in questioning: can I?

Prowl nodded, allowing Jazz to touch his exposed body.

The first place Jazz gently explored were his hands. Never before had Jazz seen them without the armour that protected them, and never before had he realised that there were thick scars on the soft metal.

"Where'd ya get these from?" He quietly asked. Prowl was quiet for a moment before he replied.

"Some are from the armour, they're natural. Others I received as Praxus fell."

Jazz knew that their armour left scars. He too had them. The bigger the scar, the heavier the armour. They were perfectly normal to have.

And quickly glancing at the rest of Prowls body revealed that he had far too many to be just down to his armour.

"Are all of them 'cause a'that?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Yes."

"Ah'm sorry."

"No need. What's done is done."

Jazz was glad that Prowl didn't seem to be bothered by the fact his protoform was permanently scarred nor his questions.

He continued, running his hands up the length of Prowls forearm, fingers splaying out. With a child-like curiosity, he examined every single inch of Prowl, avoiding areas that were more private than others. When he was done, he simply nuzzled their noses together before sitting back down, pulling Prowls own hands back with him and placing them down on his thighs. "Ya can too, if ya want."

And Prowl did. He did not express the same child-like curiosity that Jazz did, however he held the same air that he did when he was holding something delicate and intensely important. He never applied much pressure at all, hands carefully mapping out the body underneath them.

The last place his hands reached was Jazz's face, and when he did he gently took hold of it before gently kissing Jazz on the lips.

And he melted into it.

Neither felt so anxious as before, settling down into the familiar comfort of the others presence. Jazz pulled the other closer, ignoring the foreign feeling of their protoforms rubbing together as he moved to lay on his back, pulling Prowl down with him.

If he had any complaints, Prowl didn't voice them.

"Is it okay if we just cuddle? Ah don' think Ah can do much more..." Jazz awkwardly asked, shuffling where he lay. Prowl simply let himself drop down beside Jazz and opened his arms in invitation.

"Wouldn't have expected you to. Truth be told, I'm amazed I got this far." Prowl replied as Jazz immediately cuddled up to Prowl, the doorwingers arms quickly wrapping around him whilst still leaving enough room for him to leave if he so desired.

"Have Ah ever told ya how much Ah love ya?" Jazz asked, tracing over a thick, jagged scar on Prowls abdomen.

"Many times." Prowl replied, gently rubbing circles on Jazz's back.

"Well, Ah do. So so much."

"As do I."

Jazz positively preened, leaning up to kiss his mate before snuggling back up to him.

As tired as the pair were, they couldn't allow themselves to recharge without their armour on, but the feel of having the other pressed so close was by far more attractive than the lull of sleep.

* * *

**Idk if ill do it in order or even do them at all - some are a bit difficult for me x3 but something to enjoy I guess?**

**~Llama**


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 4! Kinda nsfw too aha. Also, unless stated, all of these are part of the same story~**

* * *

Alone in his quarters, lights turned down with music pounding from his speakers, was Jazz.

If anyone were to walk in now, they would promptly visit Ratchet in the medical bay and ask to have their optical sensors and processors checked, for what he was doing was unconceivable for the crew.

Knees spread, one arm braced on the berth with the other in between his legs, two fingers buried within his valve and a heaving chest as he panted, face flushed and visor a deep blue.

And the kicker: he was moaning their SIC's name.

Many were under the impression that Jazz didn't get 'crushes', and that he simply had passing fancies. This was true back in his days in the academy, where he had gained himself a reputation of being a berth hopper. Not long after he had enlisted in the army did he stop, and there was but one reason for it.

Prowl.

The moment he had first seen the mech in the flesh, he was smitten. Pictures and videos did the mech no justice. They didn't capture the way he carried himself, nor the deep tremor of his voice as he spoke, or his cold and calculating optics.

It was a data burst from Blaster, a friend from his younglinghood, that reminded him he wasn't allowed to engage in any kind of relationship with Prowl that was beyond professional.

Unfortunately for Jazz, it appeared that his reputation had reached Prowl before Jazz did, and they didn't get off on the right foot to begin with.

However, with Jazz's charms and good humour, Prowl eventually warmed up to him.

And Jazz wondered why he'd let it get so far.

He wanted Prowl, badly. He'd get a tight sensation in his chest simply thinking about the mech, and it took a lot of concentration to focus on what the mech was actually /saying/, and not just his voice. But Primus his voice was perfect.

It was torture, not being able to have Prowl. They were friends, yes, however they weren't allowed to progress any further. Prowl himself had expressed to Jazz that their friendship was a one-off event as he had calculated the pros and cons, finding that it would be more beneficial than their previous relationship that was strictly professional. It was how he went on to say that he'd never allow it to go further that made Jazz's spark painfully twist in his chest.

Jazz had managed to convince himself that Prowl would enter a relationship with him, when it was a far cry from the truth. For why would Prowl, the SIC and CTO of the Autobots, the loyal right-hand man to the Prime, have a flicker of interest in Jazz?

The thought taunted him, and even in his dreams he could not escape.

With a loud, unrestrained cry of Prowls name, Jazz overloaded.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Prowl did have a spark, and did have emotions. He was simply unable to express them as well as everyone else.

So when he came across an emotion he was unfamiliar with he was stumped as to how to react, and he didn't like it. His entire functioning revolved around knowing what to do, categorising, and planning. When he came across something he didn't understand he worked hard to crack it.

But emotions were not a code that could simply be cracked and rewritten. They were an integral part of him, almost as important as the energon that flowed through his veins.

And he experienced this unknown emotion around Jazz.

He had come to associate it with the mech, and it was a thought that worried him. He enjoyed being in his company, and Jazz was one if the few mechs who had this honour. He didn't want to cut off one of the few friendships he had, but he didn't want it to spiral out of control and Jazz to develop feelings for him. Past experience had told him he was not mate material, many potential suitors being driven away by his stoic personality and thick walls he built around himself. Prowl didn't want to disappoint Jazz, and for his back to join the few others of those he'd allowed in.

Whenever he tried to analyse this unknown emotion, he would promptly fritz, processor crashing. It remained a mystery to him.

He had toyed with the thought of asking, but eventually decided that it was too awkward. He didn't feel close enough with anyone to ask, and while Jazz was a suitable candidate, it would be awkward to ask considering the emotion only arose around him.

But there was only so much he could handle.

After Ratchet kicked him out of the medbay with a few fresh dents in his helm from making himself crash again (although Ratchet would never know the reason why), Prowl had decided enough was enough. Ratchet was almost at his wits end trying to work out just why Prowl was crashing, and the medic didn't need the stress. He was going to talk to Jazz.

Approaching Jazz's quarters, the music was getting louder and louder and Prowl wondered if Jazz would even hear his knock on the door.

Nonetheless, Prowl would try, even if it was simply to settle his nerves.

Prowl leaning in towards the door, audial pressed against it as his hand hovered by the door ready to knock. He wanted to make sure it was audible, and what a better way than to be in contact with the source?

And that was when he heard it. His name being shouted out by Jazz. For a moment, Prowl thought that Jazz was calling him in, but there was something about the tone that told him he wasn't, and he knew Jazz shouldn't know he was standing right there. Jazz didn't know he was there. So why was he calling his name?

It took but a few seconds for what he had heard to sink in, and he promptly crashed. Ratchet would not be pleased.

* * *

**I realized that people might not know what the challenge is, so here ya go, all 30 days:**

**Cuddles (naked)**

**Kiss (naked)**

**First time**

**Masturbation**

**Blow job**

**Clothed getting off**

**Dressed/naked (half dressed)**

**Skype sex**

**Against the wall**

**Doggy style**

**Dom/sub**

**Fingering**

**Rimming**

**69**

**Sweet and passionate**

**In public place**

**On the floor**

**Morning lazy sex**

**Outdoors, woods, parks, gardens**

**Your own kink**

**Shower sex**

**On the desk**

**Trying new position**

**Shy**

**With toys**

**Boring sex**

**Rough, biting, scratch**

**Role playing**

**With food**

**Whatever you want**

**This should be… interesting****?**

**~Llama**


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 3! Sorry it took so long, real life dealt a blow to my face. Eep.**

**090909**

It most certainly hadn't been the first time they had been intimate together. The quiet nights spent curled together like cats while they listened to the rain as it pattered against the Ark, the much... _louder_ nights where simple tactile touches had brought overloads, and the simple yet treasured moments when both would sit in an office - usually Prowls, and share a cube of energon while both worked.

Many would turn their noses up at the thought of intimacy relating to anything other than getting in between another's legs, but neither Prowl nor Jazz understood why. The closeness was wonderful, and made everything just that little bit more bearable.

As it was, Jazz's hands were scrabbling for purchase on Prowl's back as the mech kissed his neck cabling, finally managing to latch on as Prowl nipped a fuel line. He quietly moaned, pulling Prowl closer.

The only thing different about this time, the thing that set it apart from the others?

Interfacing.

The pair had held back, knowing that it would be setting a bad example along with the simple fact Prowl had shown little interest. It was only when Jazz returned from a Decepticon base, battered and bruised after fighting his way out after a mission gone sour when Prowl realised that he needed to show Jazz he truly did care about him.

And what better way than some TLC?

"Prowler, ya know ya don't have ta" Jazz managed between gasps and moans. He was now mostly healed from his escapade, and Prowl was more than happy to completely pamper him until every last marking was gone.

"I want to." Prowl replied, voice muffled in Jazz's neck. A hand snaked down, gripping onto a thigh and pushing it up so it was hooked over Prowl's hip.

"Ya sure? Ya not just doin' this ta make me happy?" Jazz managed, barely restraining a pleasured groan as the movement of his thigh brushed their panels together. Say what you wanted about Prowl, but he definitely knew how to set Jazz's circuits on fire.

"Completely and utterly sure." Prowl replied, pressing kisses to Jazz's jaw as he caressed the seams in the other mechs hip. He was rewarded with a breathy groan as Jazz reached up and massaged Prowls doorwing hinges, sending out magnetic pulses every so often.

"J-Jazz!" Prowl gasped, arching upwards into his hands.

"Say tha' again." Jazz purred, moving his hands to run his fingers over the bottom edge, sending out yet more magnetic pulses.

Prowl made a strangled noise, torn between pressing into Jazz's hands or closer to Jazz's body. Another magnetic pulse had him crumpling, moaning the other mechs name again as his doorwings twitched and spasmed.

"Jazz, please- I'm gunna..." Prowl managed, pushing Jazz's hands away. Jazz pouted, his fun at making Prowl unravel over. Although, he supposed that this _did_ mean he wouldn't be cumming early and thoroughly embarrassing himself. His little ace was more sensitive than he let on.

But Jazz's hands did not fall above his helm as Prowls ministrations reduced him strutless, oh no. They were busy, dipping into seams, teasing cabling and tweaking the tips of his chevron. His lips were locked with Prowls as they swallowed the others moans, bodies writhing together like snakes.

It was with no hint of embarrassment when Jazz's panel opened, the growing heat and pressure becoming too much. He immediately set to grinding it against Prowls thigh, grinning at the little gasps and pants Prowl let slip as their lip-lock broke. It didn't take long for Prowls panel to open, his spike quickly pressurising. When Jazz reached down, Prowl quickly gathered the hand and kissed the knuckles, gently putting Jazz's leg back onto the berth and slowly moved down, leaving a burning trail of kisses until he reached Jazz's valve. Jazz's breath hitched, realising what was coming next as he spread his legs wider.

Prowl remembered every spot that drove Jazz _wild_, his glossa leaving no place untouched. His hands reached up to pin his hips down as he worked the valve with his mouth, licking and sucking on external nodes and the sensors that lined the rim.

"F-frag, Prowl!" Jazz called out, hands flying down to pull him closer and grab into his hand. His legs were trembling, the beginnings of an overload in sight.

It was Prowls fingers gently sliding in that made Jazz's grip go slack, visor flickering. When he began to gently scissor them was when Jazz knew that he wanted him, and _now_.

"Prowl, Ah swear down if ya do not frag me now Ah will not be happy." Jazz hissed, hips bucking. He felt more than heard the amused rumble Prowl gave as he slowly drew his fingers out, taking care to drag them over every node he could before he pressed a noisy kiss to his valve.

"As you wish." Prowl replied, making his way back up the length of his body before wrapping his arms around him and swiftly turning them over so that Jazz was straddling his waist.

Jazz placed his hands on Prowls chest for balance, lifting his hips before looking Prowl in the optic.

"Are ya sure?"

Many would find it hard to believe that even when panting, face flushed and cooling systems on full blast, both were still willing to stop if their partner was uncomfortable and wanted to stop. Both black and whites thought that it was strange when others didn't.

Prowl placed his hands on Jazz's hip, rubbing circles with his thumbs. "Very." He replied, optics flickering between Jazz's face and his lubricant coated thighs.

He wondered what it would be like to be buried in between them, to have Jazz's thighs clamp down on either side of him as he lost himself-

Prowl didn't realise that his cooling fans had kicked up another notch at the images he was creating in his head, and neither had Jazz. He could barely hear himself over his own.

With a needy moan, Jazz slowly lowered himself onto Prowls spike, not stopping until their hips met.

Prowls hands clenched and unclenched, torn between watching Jazz's face as he bit his lip in a bid to stay as quiet as possible and watching as he slowly slid into Jazz. He ended up watching Jazz, deciding that there would always be other times for the latter.

Primus, he was beautiful.

Prowl would never understand why Jazz had chosen _him_ when he had free pickings of every mech on the Ark. Even when he had discovered Prowl was asexual he never strayed, rejecting Prowls offer of seeing other mechs to satisfy all of his needs.

But as it currently stood, Prowl had buckled to his own desires and had a very happy and turned on Jazz on his lap.

Slowly, Jazz lifted his hips and slowly began to rise off the spike, sliding back down again when only the head was left inside. Prowl groaned, optics darkening even further as his grip tightened.

Jazz set a rhythm, keeping it slow and gentle for the time being. Prowl began to match it, meeting Jazz half way. Neither bothered to try and bite down or smother their moans - if anyone heard, so be it. It was no secret that the pair were together by any means, they were certain that the entire Autobot army knew. All it took was one slip-up in the medical bay.

But that was a story for another time.

It wasn't so much as thrusting as it was rocking together, grinding against the other in a slow erotic torture. Despite himself, Prowl found that he didn't want this to be the only time. He had loved the way Jazz's face lit up after the quietly murmured suggestion, how he had excitedly dragged him into the berthroom only to pull him on top of himself, offering himself over to Prowl. The cute noises he made, and the faces that accompanied them.

That, and the fact it felt _good_. He liked making Jazz feel this way.

It was Jazz who decided that their previous pace was boring, and quickly sped up, not allowing Prowl to force him to go slow.

Not that Prowl would have, his hips bucked at the change in pace, hands adjusting themselves as he held onto Jazz tighter.

Prowl's spike hit all of the right places, and it wasn't long before Jazz began to come apart, quickly losing his rhythm as his helm fell back and back arched, thighs violently trembling as his hands clenched and scratched away the paint on Prowls midsection.

There was a tight pressure in Prowls abdomen, and he knew what was coming next. With one particularly hard thrust, Jazz was shoved over the edge and he _screamed_ Prowls name, as static laden as his voice was. His legs tightened over Prowls hips as his back arched almost painfully. Prowl could only watch, not even thinking as he began a video capture before he was finally pushed over the edge too.

**090909**

Prowl didn't remember cleaning up and cuddling up to Jazz, but he had, and was absently rubbing his back.

"Ya sure ya haven't done that often? 'Cause mech, _damn_ that was one of the best overloads Ah've ever had." Jazz asked, pulling away from where he was leaning against Prowls chest.

"I am flattered." Prowl replied, glad that he hasn't disappointed Jazz. The fact that they could now truly refer to the other as their lover was something that warmed Prowl to the core. "I can improve on that, if you'd like." He murmured, cheekily wiggling his eye ridges. Jazz squeaked, interest significantly perked.

"Very much, Prowler."

Prowl allowed himself a small smile and kissed his forehelm, allowing Jazz to snuggle in closer before shuttering his optics. He wasn't willing to recharge just yet, still wanting to savour the feeling of the other mech up against him. It didn't take long for the sound of rain pattering against the metal shell of the Ark to register, and the pair were soon lulled into recharge by the gentle sound.

**090909**

**I don't think I've come across an asexual Prowl before? He always struck me as being that way, but I never wrote it 'cause it felt like I was forcing my own orientation into it (don't look at me like that I know D:) buuuuuttt representation kids, it's important.**

**If anyone has any questions on ace's feel free to ask, ill answer to the best of my ability.**

**~Llama**


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 7!**

* * *

Prowl frowned as he looked at himself in the mirror.

Now, do not be mistaken for he was by no means a vain person. No, that was Sunstreaker and Tracks. Prowl was far from it. He didn't care what he looked like - so long as it was presentable and upheld the respect he demanded as SIC he was satisfied.

But his scars were bothering him.

The armour that protected his chest had been removed, heavily scarred protoform underneath revealed. Long gashes carved grooves over his chest, narrowly missing his spark, and the metal had gained a puckered texture where high temperatures had melted and distorted it.

His fingers traced over them, continuing even as his armour was in the way. It was all committed to memory, a mental map in his mind of where every scar, every marking, and distortion was.

His fingers hooked in the latches to his shoulder armour, and soon it had joined his chest armour on the floor. Prowl was amazed his right shoulder was still functional, what with how hard he had fell and impaled himself on shrapnel during the chaos of the fall. He had Ratchet to thank for that, although the tell-tale scars still remained.

Even though Jazz didn't seem bothered by his scars, and even seemed to /like/ them, Prowl wasn't sure how much of it was an act and how much was genuine. It left a sick feeling in his tank to think that he couldn't trust Jazz even after all they had been through together.

So lost in his thoughts as he was, he didn't notice that Jazz was in the immediate vicinity until his hands snaked around his waist, elbows resting on his hips.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"It's nothing." Prowl replied, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding and placing his hand over Jazz's. "When did you get back?" He asked as he turned around to face Jazz, arms looping around his neck.

"Couple secs ago. An' ya really think Ah'm gunna fall for tha'? Talk ta me."

"It's just my scars."

Jazz frowned. "Do they hurt?"

"No, they stopped hurting vorn ago." Prowl dismissed, waving his hand. "They're just bothering me."

"Ah like 'em." Jazz hummed, visor flicking towards his shoulder. "Even if they look painful."

"You sure?" Prowl quietly asked. His optics weren't looking at Jazz - he was staring directly at the wall in front if himself.

"Ah love every single one'a em." Jazz confirmed, placing a noisy kiss to one on his chest for emphasis. "Ah wanna learn them inside out."

Jazz almost missed how Prowls expression softened.

* * *

**Short I know I know - muse stopped cooperating. Sorry.**

**Also forgot I had this in my emails for a week, oh dear.**

**~Llama**


End file.
